Voltron Protocol
by narniac4aslan
Summary: Team Voltron is the youngest AIS (Altean Intelligence Service) team in existence. When tragedy strikes and the team is framed as a terrorist organization, and the Galra empire poises on the brink of global nuclear war, the team must come back together before it is torn apart from the inside out.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"We are out of time, Pink!"

A bearded man paced frantically along the platform as the approaching train slowed to a halt. The doors of the carriages hissed open and the occupants began spilling out like syrup, seeping around pillars and newsstands. Everyone was focused on getting to their own destination and relatively ignorant of the man with the white beard stressfully pressing his ear.

"Anytime now, Pink," another, younger voice was heard over the com-link, "I can't search for the currier until I have that name."

"And you will have it, Green." A female voice sounded, the tone otherwise occupied. "Just give me a tick."

The bearded man pressed his lips. He was confident in his team. Faithfully so. Proudly so. Unwaveringly so. He checked his watch again. _Quiznack._ He was confident in his team. He was confident in his team. He was-

There were indistinct sounds of smashing and crunching with a few dull thuds. Pink's voice spoke again, though not to the others joined in the com-link. It must have not turned off.

" Who is carrying the files?" Her voice was clear and fearless. She expected to be answered. The man's anxiety lessened a squeeze. Finally, things were getting underway.

There was a silence that was obviously unacceptable, then a cracking thud and a gasp.

" _Who is the currier_?"

The bearded man could hear the urgency in her words, but he also knew that, to the unfortunate victim she was interrogating, it would sound as hard as steel and twice as dangerous.

Though he had stopped his pacing, the bearded man lifted his cap and ran his fingers through his white hair, a visual image of the female's veiled apprehension.

There was an agonizing half-second pause, and then –

"V-varkon!" a strained voice sputtered, "for the love of God!"

"Did you get that Green?" Pink asked, "I can ask him to spell it for you." A slight lilt in her voice made her sound almost eager.

"White, you should have his face on your phone now." Green's voice was immediately responsive, almost cutting Pink off, much to the fortune of her victim.

A profile of a middle aged, potbellied man appeared on White's phone. With a touch, the face was uploaded to a facial recognition scanner in his contact lens. The profiles of passers-by were scanned as quickly as White's eyes took in their faces. After a few tense moments, where everyone on the coms held their breath, a profile lit up a match. Only his years of training kept White's body from appearing anything but normal. Without another glance, he was on the move.

"Currier locked. Coming to you, Yellow." White said, walking briskly down some stairs. He flipped an alumni ring into his palm and removed the gem to reveal a long tip.

Adjusting his leather satchel over his shoulders, the man identified as Varkon opened the door leading off the train platform. White also reached to open the door. Right over Varkon's hand.

Varkon gasped at the sudden pain, looking first at his hand, then behind him. A dark skinned man with a white beard shrugged a half hearted apology. Varkon just rolled his eyes and turned back around, the matter already forgotten... and... why was the floor tilting? Varkon blinked as the entire station wobbled.

As planned, White was ready to catch him.

"Hey, are you alright?" Concern was written over White's face as he helped the man to a nearby bench.

Unable to keep his eyes open another second, Varkon slouched in the corner of the bench, his last words slurring through his lips, "I won letu don Zarkonnnn."

And with that, his head fell back against the armrest.

White lifted Varkon's satchel over his shoulders and plopped the cap he had been wearing over Varkon's face in a single movement. The unconscious man looked peacefully asleep to the rest of the world.

White walked away with confident steps, his back straight and eyes alight with relief in the ease of the mission, the previous tension all but forgotten in the light of victory, "Ready to hand off, Yellow."

White turned the corner and a short distance away, a hefty, dark skinned young man rose from a bench, still flipping through a magazine.

"Ready to receive, White." His soft voice spoke through the com-link.

White suddenly slowed, further down the hall than Yellow, two men in dark clothes stood and dropped their papers they had been browsing. He turned quickly to see two other men rise from the waiting benches by the train arrival board.

"Yellow, remain civilian, someone has crashed this drop."

"Local police?" Yellow's voice raised a pitch but quickly adapted to the situation.

"No." White took the satchel from his shoulder and hooked it around his body more securely as the darkly clothed men reached inside their jackets, "Armed hostiles."

And he took off. Running to his right, he burst through a side door to a flight of concrete stairs. His sudden speed defied the age his white hair gave, and the hostiles were taken off guard.

"Heading to the roof," White said as he stopped at the bottom of the staircase to engage the first man who was about to reach for the satchel strap around his back.

"I'm on my way." Pink piped up.

Slamming the man's head against the steel railing, White twisted the dazed attacker's neck with expert hands, the snap barely heard in the scuffle. Without a backward glance, White flew up the stairs, calling to the com-link,

"Negative Pink. Rendezvous at the east alleyway, I'll be there in three minutes." His voice was barely out of breath as he neared the top of the flight, "Coming onto the roof Blue. They're all yours."

"I thought we had agreed, sir, my new code name is Sharpshooter!" a high, young voice whined into the coms.

White allowed amusement to twitch his lips as he neared the exit doors. The pounding of his pursuers created an echoing thunder of noise against the cement walls as they sprinted after him.

"No one agreed to that but you, Blue."

"Shut up Green, no one asked for your opinion!"

" _You_ did when you suggested 'Sharpshooter!"

"And you didn't protest at all, so the vote was unanimous."

" _S-ho not_! You said, 'Hey, you know what name is cooler than Blue? Sharpshooter.' And then I said 'How is Sharpshooter better than Blue? It's way too long!' And then _you_ said, 'Fine, then just Shooter?' which is still longer than Blue, by the way."

"To be fair to Blue, Green, 'Sharpshooter' is better than some previous name suggestions. Let's not forget the whole 'Hot Cakes' incident..."

"You know what, Yellow, no one asked for your opinion either _gracias_ very much! Sharpshooter out."

"Good, cause I'm coming to the roof now, Blue." White said, just as he exploded out of the metal doors. He quickly oriented himself before sprinting left across the long, flat roof of the train station. The pursuers were but a few seconds behind him.

"Aw, White, sir, you're too kind, lining them all up for me like that."

"I do what I can, Blue." White reached into his pocket and pulled out a contraption resembling a sort of rectangular grenade. He pressed the button on the side, activating it with a _beep_.

Behind him, there was a sort of _sssspffft_ sound and one of the pursuers fell to the side, his momentum rolling his body a few times before stilling.

The edge of the roof was approaching fast and White sprinted faster, arms and legs pumping like pistons.

 _Sssspffft._

The second pursuer was sent reeling from the unseen attack, his body almost completely flipping over itself, arms slapping the metal roof before stopping.

"Woohohohoo! Milady is smoother than peanutbutter and bananas, Yellow! The new stabilizers are doin' magic!"

"I thought those balled joints would be smoother than the old stabilizers. Glad they've passed a field test!"

"Leave peanutbutter out of this, Blue." White could almost see Green's glare.

"Oh, oh, oh! Waitwait! He's gonna use the landing pad! White's gonna use the landing pad!" Blue's voice rose an octave in excitement and White did not disappoint.

Throwing the 'grenade' off the roof first, White jumped to fall six stories to the ground. Twisting his body as he fell, he took out his handgun and shot _One! Two! Three!_ times at the last pursuer and he fell, body half hanging over the edge of the roof. The panache of the extra two shots may not have been necessary, but he liked to give his team a show when he could.

The 'grenade', upon contact with the ground, blew up an enormous air-filled landing pad. And not a moment too soon, as White landed on it not a second after it expanded.

White took the time to rise slowly, trying to find the breath that had been knocked from his ribs.

A final pursuer suddenly rounded the corner, gun drawn. _Shit._ White rolled on instinct, his body moving to a crouched position. Before he could raise his own gun, a _sssspffft_ took the man out and he fell on his face, unmoving.

White stood to his feet, slouching a bit over his knee as he finally found his breath. He looked across the rails stretching out in front of him to a tall lookout tower and gave a tired, two fingered salute in its direction.

"Think nothing of it sir." Blue's voice was beaming.

"Please stop saluting him like that, sir, we talked about this. It only encourages him."

"I acknowledge when someone does a good job, Green." White readjusted the satchel from around his body to his shoulder and turned to walk around a corner to the rendezvous, "Speaking of, I believe I owe you a new wireless scanner for that quick pull up back there. We might have missed Varkon if it wasn't for those quick fingers."

"Please sir, it's my job. But yeah. You do owe me a new wireless. One point five seconds. Way under the previous three—you're welcome."

White approached the corner, resisting the urge to whistle happily. His team was turning out to be the best he could have possibly hoped for, which was defying all expectations back at headquarters. Many had insisted, on no uncertain terms, that such a young team to be a detriment to the AIS.

White allowed pride to flood his heart. The Director, the Secretary, everyone- had said that these inexperienced, albeit talented, children would cost the agency more than they were worth. But White had persisted. He had seen the results of their training and their commitment. Through watching them very closely, he had also seen something unique, something that agents their age were often lacking. The ability to work as a team. It had been the whole reason White had insisted so passionately to the director that he could make these junior agents into a team the agency had never seen before. They worked well, the three of them. Incredibly well.

It was also one of the reasons he let them bicker and have relatively free reign over the coms; it only strengthened their bond. They might not have been the best agents the AIS had to offer at the time he proposed the idea to his superiors, but they were certainly well on their way to becoming top paladin agents now. They were (usually) silent when they had to be, and when they weren't, it was sibling-like arguments and squabbling. He was continuously criticized for his untraditional training methods, particularly from his daughter, but no one could deny the results. A perfect record. He could still barely comprehend it himself. Some close calls had admittedly come to pass, but every mission his team was presented with, they had completed—and then some.

Even in his opinion, his team was young, some barely out of adolescence, and he knew just how sobering some of their missions could become. So let the kids be kids when they can, and they may even come out better for it. This was a philosophy that was back-boning most of his decisions on how he ran his team. A philosophy that was admittedly still in the experimental phases. All being said, White was immensely confident in his team, and now that it had been a full year, he was secretly almost giddy to present their success to Director Kolivan tomorrow.

"Almost at rendezvous. Yellow, what's your ETA?"

"Fourty-five seconds, Pink." There was the sound of a sigh through tired lips over the com, " _Pfffffew!_ Did you know there are as many stairs down to the ground as there are up to the roof?"

White listened contentedly to the continued chatter of his team as he rounded the corner. Ahead, he saw an older woman walking towards him. A quick eye-scan of her body on instinct from years of training and experience took in her expensive wool, grey coat, Coach, black leather bag, heels and long white hair hanging over her thin, pointed face and elected her as non-threatening. Though her placement in a back alley was suspicious enough for him to be on guard.

White's phone buzzed in his pocket and he paused his stride to look at it. Eyes wide, his head shot up just as four silenced bullets slammed into his chest.

The sound of the shots reverberating through his body echoed through the com-link and all light-hearted conversation halted.

"What just happened? White?"

"White, sir, respond."

"Blue! Blue, do you have a visual? What's his location?"

"I lost visual when he turned the corner to the rendezvous Pink! I have no visual! I'm coming down."

"I'm coming too!"

"No Green, stay where you are, you understand me? White? White, acknowledge!"

The woman caught White as he slumped forward. Almost gently, the woman held him sitting up, hand softly around his neck as she fired three more shots into his ribs. She rose and let him fall, her face void of either pleasure or pain. She hooked the satchel around her own shoulder, disappearing from White's sight as blackness puffed around the edges of his eyes like food colouring, her heels clicking against the concrete becoming the last thing he ever heard.

Meanwhile, the coms were frantic, the voices of the team desperate for some kind, any kind of confirmation from their leader.

"White? White, please!"

"Say something! Anything!"

"White?"

"White!"

"Alfor!"


	2. Prison Break

**Welcome back! This story will be based off of Mission Impossible Ghost:Protocol's plot, but it is adjusted to fit all the Voltron characters and story-line. I have the entire first part published on AO3- check it out if you wish! It's under the name Voltron Protocol: Russia as it is more of a series, but I chose to put it all under one story here in FF. I hope you enjoy! I had a TONE of fun writing it- updates will come weekly and art is in the making!**

 **Five Months Later**

 _Tick tick clack._

 _Tick tick clack._

The rhythm echoed down the empty, cement halls of Renkow Prison. Some of the guards watched the screens through half closed eyes in their guard rooms while some had their head against their chest, snoring lightly in the early hours of the morning.

 _Tick tick clack._

 _Tick tick clack._

A hand caught the cement piece, more from instinct than any form of focus, and tossed it lazily again. It bounced off the facing wall and then the side wall of the single cell before being caught by the hand again.

 _Tick tick clack._

Suddenly there was a deep throated beep and the cell door swung open inward.

Takashi Shirogane turned and blinked.

Getting up, he returned the smoothed cement piece to its place in the wall as he walked slowly out of the cell. It was completely quiet.

Looking up and down the hallway, Takashi bent over the railing in front of him, below revealed the deadly seven stories drop and the rest of the cells and their own hallways with metal railings running the length of the prison. Grabbing the railing of his own floor, Takashi swung up and over, flinging himself down onto the next level below, his bare feet making no noise as he landed.

Ahead of him, at the other end of the hallway, a door leading to a staircase opened with another deep throated beep. As it swung, a song started blaring over the PA system. Takashi looked unfazed as Frank Sinatra began singing _The Way You Look Tonight_ and walked towards the door, _"Someday, when I'm awfully low, when the world is cold..."_

He stopped suddenly, as if remembering something, debated the decision for but a moment, and then turned and walked the other way.

"Wait wait- what's he doing?"

An electrician's van was parked in the shadows, outside of the jail. Close enough to be within sight, but far enough away as to not to draw attention.

The glow from multiple screens from multiple computers and laptops showing the jail cameras and security systems bathed two faces in a white sheen.

One camera feed showed Takashi Shirogane walking down the hallway towards a secure door and a guard room that lead to more cells.

 _"Yes, you're lovely, with your smile so warm, and your cheeks so soft..."_ The song sang on.

"What _is_ he doing?" a second voice asked, leaning further onto the first speaker's larger figure hunched over the computers to see better.

"He- I mean... Do I listen to him Blue?"

"I would do what he's asking, but I'm not allowed on the computers yet." A bitter voice spoke up from their feet.

"Just this last mission Green, then Pink said she'd let you back in the chair." The first speaker's voice was soft.

"She has yet to promise Yellow, and until I get some sort of guarantee, I'm not satisfied."

"And this is why we don't take you Christmas shopping." Blue patted Green's head, narrowly avoiding a swat.

By now, the other monitors showed the guards working confusedly to find out where the music was coming from. It wouldn't be long now before the fake camera feeds were discovered and Takashi was exposed.

Takashi came to the door and made a whirling motion with his finger above his head. _Open the door._

"No Takashi, I'm not opening the door. Turn around." Yellow said to the screen. Green stood up now and leaned over Yellow, standing beside Blue.

Takashi looked at the camera feed and made the motion again, this time jabbing at the door after with the finger.

"No! Takashi, go to the extraction point- no! No! N-I know what that means, but I need to follow- Go to the extraction point!"

"It doesn't look like screaming at the computer is going to help any Yellow..."

"Ya, Blue, no shit." Green hissed, hunching further over the computer, quickly pressing a few buttons, locking the guard rooms.

"Thanks." Yellow said, "And language."

Blue slapped Green upside the head lightly, "Listen to Yellow. You have to put a dollar in the swear jar now. Or, I suppose, a ruble... a few rubles- what's the exchange rate?"

Takashi had now taken to leaning against the railing, hand on hip. The guards in the guard room had seen him and were desperately working to get out of their suddenly ironic captivity. Takashi raised his eyebrows at them and shook his head, motioning towards the camera like he couldn't believe what was happening either.

An alarm was finally sounded. The jail was on lockdown.

"What's going on?" A female voice sounded over the van com system, "Why is the alarm going off so early?"

"Sorry Pink, but Takashi is suddenly on another mission here!" Yellow said, typing furiously. Blue leaned on Green to get a closer look at the computer, ignoring the grunt of protest.

"As long as he's where he needs to be when the song ends, give him what he wants." Pink said, voice a little strained.

Green raised her hands, gesturing to herself dramatically.

Just as Takashi shook his fist at the camera, Yellow shook his head towards the van ceiling, "Alright, _alright,_ fine. Fine. There you go, fine."

 _"Won't you please arrange it? Cause I love you, just the way you look tonight."_

The door beeped opened and Takashi elegantly signed 'thank you' to the camera. He motioned with two fingers on his eyes and then pointed at himself. _Eyes on me._ And walked quickly through.

Knowing exactly where he was going, Takashi began walking down the hallway. Suddenly, three guards in riot gear burst through the stairwell. Takashi stopped, took in the situation and charged them. Leaping against the wall, he came down on the first guard from above, bashing him back and ducking low against the swinging baton. Using the momentum instead of his bare skin against the hard armour, he then burst up and pushed the other guard back into the third, the two collapsing in a pile. Takashi turned on the first, shoving him against the railing and flipping him, sending him up and over, falling to the ground six stories below.

Takashi turned to the nearest camera as the two guards began to rise. Takashi moved past them, waving his arm at a door and it opened obediently. As expected, the jail mates within had heard the song and were eager to see what the commotion was about. Spilling out of the door, the inmates lost no time descending upon the guards.

Takashi took a second to wince at the unfortunate guards' fates before running into the cell. He had to back out immediately as an enormous giant of a prisoner walked forward, towering over Takashi, who was neither short nor unimpressive but looked like a child in front of the boorish prisoner. Stepping back until he was against the railing, Takashi looked towards the guards, then back at the prisoner, raising his eyebrows. The prisoner huffed like some sort of bull and stomped towards the already thoroughly bashed guards.

Takashi then rushed into the cell, looking around, "Rollo? Rollo!"

A tall, shaggy haired man with a long, pointy nose, looking not unlike a stick bug, raised his head from behind a cot, "Sven?"

 _"Come! Time to go!"_ Takashi urged in Russian.

 _"Now?"_ Rollo's eyes bugged out.

"Da, da, _now! Come on!"_

Slowly, Rollo descended back behind the cot but Takashi caught him by the scruff of his shirt and shoved him out of the cell. Pushing Rollo into a run, Takashi moved them away from the fight with the guards, who had probably been unconscious for a while now, to the other end of the hall and the awaiting flight of stairs. As Takashi opened the door, he was greeted with an entire unit of guards in full riot armour thundering up the stairs. Turning around so fast, Rollo stumbled over his own feet, Takashi made eye contact with a camera. Whirling his finger above his head, he began running as he shouted to be heard over the music, "Open all of them!"

Every cell door in the hallway opened with a buzz of low beeps and prisoners flooded out to meet the guards.

Taking advantage of the full-blown prison riot, Takashi raced through the prisoners ahead of him, making his way to the opposite stairwell at the other end of the guard room. The prisoners, already excited from the previous fight, turned to rush the unit coming out of the stairs. Either by mistake or adrenalin, a few of them decided to try and attack Takashi as well.

Takashi ducked as a punch came at his face. Rollo was not so lucky, taking the full punch to the nose. The Russian cried out as blood came rushing out between his fingers as he cradled his probably broken nose. Takashi punched the prisoner right back and shoved him against the others directly behind. Being in such close quarters, the others tumbled against each other like bowling pins.

 _"The laugh that wrinkles your nose, it touches my foolish heart..."_

Dragging the now whimpering Rollo past the guard room the way he had originally come, Takashi skidded to a stop as another unit charged through the stair doors. Right on cue, the doors opened in another round of beeps and Takashi charged with the rest of the prisoners at the guards.

Chaos was complete as the two sides met and Takashi ducked and swung punches at guards and prisoners alike. Finally making it to the door, Takashi ducked a baton and shoved Rollo against the railing of the hallway, almost toppling him over. Batting the baton away and shoving the guard against the open stair door with a well-aimed kick to the chest, Takashi grabbed Rollo by the scruff of his shirt and charged down the stairs.

Reaching the bottom of the stairwell, Takashi burst through a basement door into a sort of abandoned cellar full of pipes and glistening, wet walls.

 _"Won't you please arrange it? Cause I love you, a-just the way you look tonight..."_

Rollo finally found his footing and he looked around, the beginnings of panic filling his voice as he turned to Takashi, his nose still obviously paining him as his words garbled shrilly, _"Oh Gob. Ohgobohgobohgob! Sven, blease dell me dat dere is more do your blan dan dis?"_

 _"Mm, mm, mm, mm, just the way you look tonight."_

As if in answer, the song came to its finale and the ground below them began to shake. Takashi swung Rollo out of the way just in time for the floor to disappear in front of them, crumbling into a perfectly circular hole. Rollo peered down and almost got his nose completely cut off as a wire shot up from the mysterious depths, embedding in the ceiling.

Takashi grabbed a bundle of grips that were tossed up and clicked them onto the wire. Wordlessly, he held onto one and wrapped his foot around the other, showing Rollo how he was to descend into the hole. Rollo looked at him incredulously but obeyed to the best of his abilities.

Rollo landed in an undignified heap as Takashi slid down after him, landing lightly beside his prisonmate.

"Agent Shirogane?"

He turned towards the accented question to see an elegant face hooded by a dark cap, cool blue eyes examining his own.

"And you are?" he asked.

Taken aback for a moment, the woman spoke slowly, "Agent Altea."

"Okay." Takashi directed Rollo towards a rounded tunnel that lead to the sewers and obviously their way out.

"Who is your friend?" Agen Altea's voice spoke up behind him as she followed him out.

"I'll tell you on the way." He said, looking back at her, "Did you set up the explosives?"

Agent Altea looked slightly insulted, but nodded, "Of course."

Takashi nodded back, "Light the fuse."

The sun was just rising into a grey sky as the electrical van sped along a highway. A seemingly endless line of emergency vehicles was passing them the opposite way, racing towards the jail.

 _"Sven, what's going on?"_ Rollo was looking around at the odd company of people packed into the back of the van.

 _"It's okay Rollo, they're with me."_ Takashi answered as Agent Altea pressed an eye scanner to his face. For "protocol" she had stated when he protested. When she lowered it, Takashi also finally took in the company he was now with.

Beside him, finishing up the eye scan, and now grabbing his hand to press his thumb to a print scanner, was Agent Altea, obviously Team Leader. Below the jail, she had been in the dark and her head had been covered by a low hat. She had since taken it off to reveal shockingly white hair done up in a pony tail that swished in natural curves around her neck and back. Her accent suggested a British upbringing but her skin tone hinted at a more African ancestry. She was angular and tall, even taller than him, which he was seldom used to. But she gave him a half smile when she glanced up at him from the print scan.

"I don't mean to bring up the elephant in the room, but what's with the tall, skinny Russian?"

Takashi looked quickly away from Agent Altea towards the voice, seeing it belonged to a young man, still a teenager by the looks of it, with dark brown hair and sharp features, peering around from the passenger seat of the van. He looked Latino, probably Cuban but had little to no accent. He probably grew up in the Agency since he was young. As a matter of fact, they all looked young. Incredibly young. Takashi only saw the back of the head of the man driving, but he looked about the same age as the other. Orange headband tied around longer hair with dark, muscled arms showing through short sleeves. He turned to a clicking noise beside Agent Altea that he only now noticed. His heart suddenly lurched to his throat as a bespectacled face turned up to his. She had the same wavy hair, about the same shoulder length too, same honey coloured eyes, same mouth set in a determined line, and, _quiznack,_ same nose even.

Takashi suddenly realized he had yet to answer the passenger's question, "Oh, Rollo?" he cleared his throat, "He sent me intel, if I left him in jail, he would have been killed so we're going to give him his freedom." He eyed the company over again, "Were the sweepers called?"

The driver answered in a youthful, husky voice, "Yup, they're on their way."

"Good... good." Takashi faded as he suddenly realized who these kids were.

"Wait. Are you guys Voltron? _The_ Team Voltron? How...wha- h-how is it you're here?" He grew excited.

"Well, we passed the field exam like every other agent and, woop! Here we are, responding to missions. Like every other agent."

Takashi was surprised at the biting tone of the young girl. Her light brown eyes were narrowed but confidant, much like someone else he knew. He realized, suddenly embarrassed, that they must get patronising questions like that all the time.

"Sorry," Takashi shook memories back into the corner of his mind, "I didn't mean it like tha-mmgf." Takashi grabbed Agent Altea's wrist that was holding a DNA testing prod that had been suddenly shoved into his mouth, "It's me."

"It's protocol." She wrestled her hand back with surprising strength and continued with the test.

"U're 'ery forough." Takashi deadpanned with the testing prod raking his gums none too gently.

"Sven?" Rollo finally spoke up again, eyes darting back and forth warily, "You are not Russian?" he finished in English.

"Sweepers approaching." The driver called back and Agent Altea finished up the DNA samples.

"Roger that." Takashi grabbed the awaiting gun from Agent Altea and loaded it with the appropriate dart as the van slowed down.

"Are you not Sven?" Rollo leaned closer.

Takashi turned and fired the dart at Rollo's neck. The man gave a sort of squawk and pulled the dart out, looking at it like it had betrayed him.

The van slowed to a halt as the doors opened to a similar van with awaiting agents inside. Before Takashi handed Rollo over, he cupped the man's face in his hand, trying to get one last word in before the drug took over,

"Hey, hey, Rollo, hey, I always take care of my friends okay?"

Rollo's eyes rolled back in his head as he lost consciousness, his last words, "My friends...", were slurred and muffled as he fell back into the awaiting arms of the sweeper agents.

It was done in less than six seconds.

The van doors closed and the vehicle pulled back onto the highway.

"That was messy, bringing him along." Agent Altea raised an eyebrow at him.

"I thought it went rather well." Takashi smiled.

"Want to tell me what you were doing in a Russian prison?" She asked.

"Want to tell me why you broke me out?" He asked.

"Wait, this wasn't a rescue mission?" The passenger asked, his head shooting around the seat.

Takashi shrugged, "Well, let me put it this way, if the Director didn't want me in there, it must be pretty bad out here."

The young man's eyes shone in admiration as he began slapping the driver's arm with the back of his hand.

"By the way, Mr Shirogane, Sir, you've been Lance's hero since we heard about in first year at the Agency." The driver looked at Takashi through the rear-view mirror. "I mean, the youngest agent to pass the Paladin tests, and the one who single handily- erm... no pun intended sir- took down the Galra human trafficking ring in Eastern Europe? I mean, Mr Shirogane, sir, it really is our honour."

"Call me Shiro." Shiro said, and extending his hand for the young passenger to shake.

"I'm Lance. Lance McLain, sharpshooter extraordinaire." Lance said, a dazzling smile lighting up his face, "This is Hunk Garret, our weapons engineer and that's Katie Holt our tech wizard, but we all call her Pidge."

"Hunk." Shiro nodded at the driver and he smiled back through the mirror, "Katie." He offered her his hand.

Katie looked at it for a second before taking it in her own, which Shiro now realized was covered in a soft black leather glove with material tips for electronic access. Shiro was curious. He didn't think that gloves like that were a part of teenage fashion. But to each their own. He was just relieved Katie shook his hand. A lot of people were put off that he only had one arm, but he suspected her pause was more suspicion on her part rather than any awkwardness towards his disability.

"Like he said, call me Pidge." She looked Shiro in the eyes as if daring him to do otherwise. But she said it with a soft smile.

Shiro then turned to Agent Altea, "Agent Altea?" he extended the hand again.

"Allura. Allura Altea, team leader of Voltron."

Lance moved to become more comfortable looking behind from the front seat, "So you've heard of Team Voltron?"

Shiro nodded, "The youngest team to come out of AIS. But if I'm completely honest, I never pictured you all to be _so_ young."

"Eh, no one ever does." Lance waved his hand like it was no big deal.

Shiro looked around, "So you're team leader?" Allura nodded, "I thought Alfor was the Voltron team leader, at least, I knew he formed the team."

Allura's eyes suddenly shimmered with an emotion Shiro hadn't seen yet and everyone looked to the ground suddenly.

Shiro grew serious, "Where is he?" but he had already guessed the answer.

Allura took a deep breath, suddenly looking utterly and hopelessly lost. Shiro had to resist the urge to put his arm around her,

"We were after a file, and we lost it."

"'We' as in Alfor too?" Shiro asked softly when Allura didn't continue right away.

"It was a letter drop of a classified file." Allura continued after a few seconds, "Should have been a simple intercept. I had just joined Team Voltron as a sort of evaluator for the Director. The team's first year review was only days away after all.

"We knew which train the currier was on and the files we were after, but the one thing we didn't know was who the currier was. I was on the train and interrogated the name from some of the accomplices and Pidge sent the name to Alfor's lens cam. Alfor dropped the mark and grabbed his bag. He had the files in his hands. Easy in, easy out.

"But we weren't the only ones after it. Alfor took care of them with help from Lance in the watchtower but he disappeared from view to get to the rendezvous. His lense cam drew a facial match and triggered a warning, but it was too late. We converged around his last location to see him lying on the ground. Seven bullet holes in his chest. He didn't stand a chance after one, and she fired seven.

"It was my op. I specifically asked Alfor for it to be. I put him in the field. And she left him just alive enough for us to see him die."

Shiro looked around at the faces before him. Allura's eyes glinted, but with the bite of revenge rather than the pain of grief. Lance was sucking his lower lip and staring at the seat fabric. Hunk was wiping away a few tears and Katie's jaw was tight as she stared at her screen, her busy fingers were wrapped around each other and she was staring at them vacantly.

"I'm sorry." Shiro breathed. And he meant it. Alfor was one of his mentors when he arrived at the AIS and he spent many missions with the kind, spunky man. Many long evenings talking things out with him. Laughing over mistakes, crying through accidents. He may not have seen him in years, but Alfor was- had been- one of his best friends.

"He- he was my mentor, and I know he was your father." Shiro whispered. He couldn't talk any louder for fear of his voice breaking. He looked at Allura who met his eyes with a ferocity that reminded him of a lioness.

Some sort of instinct buried within him made Shiro's eyes turn back to Katie. How could she, who couldn't be much more than fourteen or fifteen, see something so life changing. He knew what the sight of a dead body could shake someone to the core, let alone someone you know, let alone a probable father figure.

Katie looked up at him, as if sensing his thoughts, "I didn't get to see him you know. I was in the van. Like I always am."

"Like you're always _ordered_ to be." Allura said, glaring, "You rarely actually stay put."

"Because you _never_ let me go out into the field!" Katie slammed her laptop closed. "I can't believe you didn't let me see him. He was our team leader. Everyone else got to, and I'm the only one who never got to see his face again!"

"You should be glad Hunk held you back. That carnage was not for you to see." Allura faced Katie head on.

"That was not your decision to make!" Katie's voice was shrill.

"It is now!" Allura sat up straighter, suddenly growing calmer, but there was an added weight to her voice, "I know very well I'm your last choice for team leader. We've had this same argument enough for it to be obvious, but it is my _father_ who is dead. I am trying to run this team as best I can and I'm sorry if I am not as good as he was, but no one can be as good as he was, so you're stuck with me."

There was a long stretch of silence in the van and Katie sat back in her corner, avoiding eye contact, still simmering, though not boiling over anymore.

Allura took a deep breath, all emotion fading from her face as she handed Shiro a phone with a screenshot of a woman's face. The woman was very slim and older, but it was hard to guess an age, and Shiro was usually very good at that. She could have been as young as her late forties or as old as her late seventies. She had long, straight white hair and yellow coloured eyes that were bright and alert, but the shade of yellow looked off. Like it should be a vibrant, sunny yellow, or a pale, soft yellow, but instead, they were sickly, dead looking. It was unsettling to say the least and Shiro felt his gut tighten as memories of that poisonous yellow and a nauseating purple flashed in front of his eyes.

"You know her." It wasn't a question.

Shiro licked his lips and nodded, forcing himself to focus on the phone, "Honerva Haggar. High ranking Galra member and freelance assassin. Tends to favour electrocution. Works for diamonds and the rare gem, quintessence."

Shiro looked back at the others. Hunk was continuously glancing back in the rear-view mirror, Lance had gone back to facing forward, though he was still listening with a tilted head, and Katie hadn't reopened her laptop but was busily tapping on her phone.

"What was in the files?" He asked.

Allura paused for a moment, then looked him in the eye but still didn't say anything.

Shiro leaned forward, eyebrows raised, urging her to say more.

Allura exhaled, "Russian nuclear launch codes."

Shiro blinked and sat back, the weight of such a failure washing over him. Running his hand through his hair, he glanced around, noticing all eyes were on him again as he took a deep breath,

"As you know, the AIS continually track the extremist terrorist organization, the Galra. We know Haggar works directly with their leader who calls himself Zarkon. We all know this."

"And how much do you know about Zarkon?" Allura asked.

"As much as you do now." Shiro shrugged, "But you can bet that if Haggar has nuclear launch codes in her possession, Zarkon will have them in his within the week. It will only be a matter of how much she wants for them and where the exchange will take place. Just because she's a high-ranking member, doesn't mean she does what she does for free, even for Zarkon."

"We're here." Hunk called from the front.

Pulling over to the side of the road, Shiro opened the van door and walked over to a graffiti covered pay phone. Allura followed him out, as did Katie but she remained leaning against the side of the van, talking to Lance, who had also gotten out, and Hunk who had moved over a seat to hang out the window.

Shiro walked over to the pay phone with Allura right behind him. He picked up the phone and tapped in a six-digit code into the dial pad. The box opened for an eye scan. Once both he and Allura had completed it, the message began. Shiro had to hold the phone so that both he and Allura could hear. He made sure to focus on the phone's speaker, even counting the little round holes so not to concentrate so much on Allura's soft breathing a mere foot away from his cheek.

"Good afternoon Agent Shirogane, Agent Altea. In your absence, AIS has learned something that has changed the tide of the war against the Galra: Zarkon was once a nuclear strategist for Russia during the Cold War. Therefore, the only way to discover his actual identity and skill set is to infiltrate the Kremlin itself."

Both Shiro and Allura raised their eyebrows at that.

"In order to get past Kremlin check points, Agent Shirogane, you will be impersonating General Federov Anatoly. He shares your unique disability and the likeness is passable. We believe that Zarkon will do whatever he can to erase any knowledge of his real identity. Your mission is to penetrate the highly secure archive inside the Kremlin and retrieve Zarkon's file before he can destroy it. New intel says that Zarkon is already en route leaving you: Four Hours, Fifty Seven Minutes to infiltrate. To save time, we are assigning you to Team Voltron. Agent Altea, as you have already met, is Voltron team leader and will be under your command for this mission. As always, should you, or any member of your team be caught or killed, the Director will disavow any knowledge of your existence."

Shiro glanced back at the three teenagers talking by the van. Lance was leaning against the front door wearing pale jeans, a grey hoodie and a stylish dark blue jacket with high top converse and talking animatedly. Hunk was resting his head on his arms over the door window and talking to Lance with his head cocked sideways, smiling warmly. Katie was sitting against the open back door of the van, her gloved hands busy on her phone and leg swinging over the edge with her jeans rolled up and baggy on her lithe frame, her foot too short to touch the ground. Shiro was suddenly struck that they were agents. Actual fully fledged, in the field, AIS agents. The same kind that would be disavowed by the Director if caught or killed. It was incredible at best, horrific at worst.

"This message will self-destruct in five seconds. Good luck Team Voltron." The message concluded.

Shiro hung up the phone and both he and Allura walked away.

Nothing happened.

Shiro glanced at Allura and sighed. Allura turned back and pounded the machine with her fist. With an electrical sizzle and a puff of smoke, the box huffed out a rather pathetic whine as the message was destroyed.

Shiro and Allura walked back to the team, who ceased their chatter and straightened up as they approached,

"So what's happening?" asked Katie.

"We're going into the Kremlin." said Allura.

Two mouths dropped open.

Hunk chuckled as they all loaded back into the van, "I thought you said the Kremlin." When no one corrected him, he said it louder, facing the back, "I thought you said the Kremlin!" Shiro tightened his lips. Allura just cocked her head.

"Oh." Hunk breathed.

 **Thank you so much for reading! Please follow or favourite and add a comment! Let me know what you loved or didn't love or any questions you may have- or even a simple smiley face will do :)**


	3. A Rather Peculiar Pawn Shop

***steps out of a pile of papers* I am SO sorry for leaving you all for so long! I can say that my laptop broke and I couldn't recover documents for like a week and a half and I was so stressed the entire time and I just got a brand new laptop so everything should be okay now, but you all deserve continual updates, so, as an 'I sincerely apologize', I will post another chapter tomorrow! And now, without further prattle, enjoy!**

 **A Rather Peculiar Pawn Shop**

Hunk tried to match Lance's wide grin, but to no avail.

Lance had turned towards him, practically vibrating in his seat. Hunk understood Lance's excitement; after all, it was Takashi Shirogane. _The_ Takashi Shirogane. The legendary paladin was sitting just behind him in the back of the van!

Hunk could hardly believe it himself.

Lance's leg began to bounce to an unstoppable beat as Hunk looked in the rear-view mirror. Again. Was he doing it too much? He was probably doing it too much. But he couldn't help it. As much as Lance was the number one Shiro fanboy, Hunk had also admired the man since they learned about his successes in first year at the academy. And he was very nice so far, asking them questions, curious about who they were. He might have had the run of the mill shock at their ages at first, like everyone did, but he seemed to be over it now, talking excitedly to Allura and Pidge in the back as they drove.

Finally approaching the provided coordinates to retrieve supplies, Hunk pulled the van over into a parking lot beside what appeared to be the sketchiest looking pawn shop in Russia. And that was saying something.

Hunk parked the van and everyone got out. He stepped gingerly, testing the weight of his right leg before completely getting out of the vehicle. There was a dull ache, but no severe pain. Just enough to remind him that something was still not completely right with the knee quite yet.

Lance stepped out of the van, took one look at the shop, and curled his lip, "Really, Allura, is this what it's come to?"

"We're meeting a supplier in person at their own storehouse this time Lance, be polite." Allura admonished, though not unkindly, walking in the front entrance.

Shiro, who was about to follow Allura, turned back to them and grinned, "Let me know who finds the sketchiest item."

A crooked smile spread across Pidge and Lance's face at that and the pair raced through the front door. Hunk followed close behind. They could go in and find things while he took his time through the shop. He was feeling more curious than competitive right now anyway.

Stepping through the front entrance, Hunk sniffed in disgust and promptly sneezed. It smelled like the inside of a rotten tree filled with dead flies in the middle of a swamp; and he did not need to be reminded why he knew what that smelt like.

Rows upon displays upon cabinets upon shelves were lined with anything and everything. Most things were weapons, or could be considered weapons. Lance was definitely standing in front of an entire glass cabinet full of switchblades.

The store was lit about as well as it smelled. Hunk walked over to his friend. He knew that, though Lance's eyesight had fully returned, he still had some trouble seeing in darker settings, like this dusty, damp should-be-closed-for-violating-hundreds-of-safety-codes shack.

Other than because they needed the adequate supplies to infiltrate _the quiznacking Kremlin,_ Hunk had no idea why they were here, specifically _._ It wasn't that he was nervous. Heck, he had infiltrated dozens of highly secure facilities in the past year. Easy peasy lemon squeezie. He just had never infiltrated one of the most highly secure fortifications on the continent that was also the residence of the President of Russia before.

Okay, so he was nervous.

Pidge had long since disappeared behind a pile of 90s computer junk, but Hunk stuck close to Lance.

"So what's his deal then?" he asked in a low voice.

Lance looked up from a very rusty looking knife that maybe-probably still had some blood on it, blinking a bit too much, "Who, Shiro?"

Hunk nodded, "Ya, why do you think he was in jail? He was a top paladin agent. You wrote, like, every essay on him and he suddenly ends up in Renkow Prison with apparently no plan to escape anytime soon?"

Lance pressed his lips together, and shut his eyes, resting them, "I heard he lost his team and was taken by the Galra, but then escaped."

"So why would he be in a Russian prison?" Hunk furrowed his brow.

Lance just rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve and shrugged, playing it cool, but Hunk could tell it was bugging him too. Hunk took his friend's wrist gently, stopping the rubbing that would only irritate his eyes. Lance gave him a glance and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Hunk leaned on the cabinet. It groaned with an ominous cracking and he immediately backed off.

"I heard there were rumours of an unsanctioned hit after his escape from the Galra." Pidge popped up, startling the two, adjusting her glasses the way she did when she was divulging information.

"Quiznack, Pidge, we told you not to sneak up like that." Lance put a hand to his chest.

Pidge narrowed her eyes at Lance for a second, then softened, realizing he probably didn't see her coming. She then looked to the ground, her voice soft, "Honestly, it just proves how good I would be in the field if Allura actually trusted me enough."

Lance smiled softly, rubbing her shoulders. Hunk always admired Lance's ability to tell when Pidge appreciated physical affection and when she didn't. This didn't mean that Lance paid much attention to said ability- more than a few bruises and fading bite marks could attest to that.

Lance pulled her closer and Pidge didn't resist.

"Pidge, no one doubts that you would be amazing, but I don't think it is about Allura not trusting you. I think it's more about Allura not trusting herself."

Pidge frowned but Hunk joined in, "That's true you know. Look, I'm sorry Pidge, but you _are_ the youngest and _Alfor_ didn't even let you go out in the field. I think Allura is just not sure when would be a good time if even her father hadn't known."

"I hadn't thought of that." Pidge looked down and fiddled with her sweatshirt hem. "Should I apologize?"

Hunk shrugged his shoulders up to his ears, "Probably, but you'd better do it soon."

"Ya, cause once the mission starts, it'll be all go go go! Pow pow pow! You know?" Lance paused mid shooting pose.

Pidge just raised an eyebrow, "Sure."

Lance winked at her and straightened, turning to investigate a cabinet.

Hunk was growing a little impatient so he turned to the back of the store as he tried to get a glimpse of where Shiro and Allura were at.

He saw them at the store's rear desk, speaking to the owner, who looked familiar...

Hunk squinted through the dusty gloom of the shop as the man moved and he got a better view of his face. Hunk suddenly brightened and grabbed Lance's arm, dragging his friend with him as he charged up the isle towards the desk, knowing Pidge would follow. He'd recognize that orange moustache anywhere!

Lance soon also recognized the unmistakable face of their favourite missions supplier, "Coran, Coran, our right hand man! Where did you come from dude?" Lance barreled up to the desk and right into Coran's awaiting arms.

Hunk had to admit, the man gave some pretty good hugs. Hunk Garrett prided himself on very few things, but his hugs were one of them. Coran came in a very close second.

"Lance! I thought I saw you browsing my blades in the corner." Coran twirled his meticulously waxed and shaped mustachio with expert fingers. Actually, Coran was one of the few men he had seen who actually had facial hair that could be called a 'mustachio'. It really could not be called anything but.

Hunk hugged Coran after Lance had let go, "Blades, bullets and, I don't know, probably little black cartoon bombs too? What even is this place? I had no idea you had a store this side of the Baltic."

Pidge came up behind Hunk and Coran held out a fist for her to pump and they made exploding sounds as they drew their hands away.

Coran then turned to the group again, "I'm your operations supplier my boy. If I don't own a few stores here and there, how will I ever get you the equipment you'll need?"

Pidge side-eyed Coran, "Um, you'll send us a location to pick up our stuff from a side- supplier like you always do? Honestly Coran, it's almost as if you like this flea ridden scrap shop."

Coran put a hand on his chest dramatically, stepping back a few paces, his face the picture of injured dignity, "My dear Agent, I am a man of gentile qualities and the highest of breeding. That you would suggest that _I,_ Coran Hieronymus Wimbleton Smythe, coranic extraordinaire, would willingly partake in these filthy, festering places of festered filth... then you'd be abso-quiznacking-lootly correct!"

Allura was smiling, "Very well, you filthy festerer, you had just told us you had the uniforms almost ready?"

Coran turned back to Allura and Shiro, "Ah, right. I do indeed, they are only in need of the necessary fitting adjustments and then they shall be finished." He turned to walk through a curtain, beckoning them all to follow, "Right, this way please."

Hunk followed behind Allura and Shiro. He had always loved Coran. The man was like that one crazy uncle everyone had. The one you didn't see all that often, but when you did, you got amazing presents from around the world. Only, this uncle was actually Allura's uncle, and he gave much more awesome presents than souvenirs or t-shirts. Like exploding pens or super glue chewing gum, or password hacking software, or a satellite GPS that could track a certain type of fabric. He was their very own Q.

"So who's getting the fitting?" Lance asked as he ducked under the curtain Hunk was holding open for him and Pidge to the back room. Hunk let the curtain drop in a puff of dust and looked around at the smaller room. It was just as cluttered and as dusty and as random as the front, but most things seemed to be themed towards a tailor's shop. Except for an odd looking glass case in one corner with, what was that, wings? Feathered wings inside? Hunk gave up. He couldn't keep marveling or he'd lose his mind and he sure wouldn't be able to find it again in this mess.

"The uniforms are for Shiro and you, my dear boy, so I hear." Coran's voice was muffled, his face buried deep in a wardrobe.

Hunk turned to Lance with a wide grin. Lance's mouth was clamped shut, his lips stretching so wide in a smile, his eyes almost disappeared. It was probably the only thing stopping him from whooping in delight, but not from letting out a high pitched squeak of excitement.

Shiro turned to Lance, face smiling, "Looks like you'll have to pull out that third year Russian from the Agency."

" _Konechna! Bez problem."_ Lance waved him away.

"You just said, 'is finite' instead of 'of course'" Pidge whispered loudly behind Lance.

Lance's face turned pink as he corrected himself, "Oh, uh, sorry, _konechn_ o. _Bez problem_."

"Luckily, you probably won't have to say too much as a corporal following a general." Shiro said, gripping Lance affectionately on the shoulder.

Lance smiled weakly and Hunk felt for his friend. Lance was usually really good at impersonations. He knew Lance loved playing new roles and pretending to be someone else, being dramatic and badass and everything, but he had to work hard at different languages, especially the eastern European ones. Most Romance languages he excelled at from being bilingual growing up, but even Hunk had to admit that _quiznack_ , Russian was hard!

"Aaaand, here they are!" Coran popped back outside the wardrobe, swishing two Russian military uniforms, "As you can see, the jacket is reversible, ready to be switched into civilian mode and the pants' stripes can easily be torn away to become plain, black pants. There are glasses in the side pockets as well as Kremlin issued maps to complete the tourist ensemble."

Lance took the jacket from Coran and shed his own, tossing it to Hunk, who caught it against his shoulder. Trying it on, Lance straightened it out.

"It actually fits great Coran." He said, opening the wardrobe to find a mirror. Finding one on the inside of the door, Lance turned this way and that, admiring himself, "Hey Allura, did you always love a man in uniform?" he asked. Hunk rolled his eyes and turned to where Allura was helping Shiro put his uniform on.

Hunk couldn't help noticing with amusement that she was dusting it straight a little too thoroughly. Pidge seemed to have the same mindset as she turned and met his eyes, eyebrows lifted.

"Pidge, my darling, a little birdie told me you were eager to be out on the field?" Coran stepped back to the wardrobe to pull something out. Hunk grinned at Pidge, who, he swore, suddenly had sparking stars in her eyes. Allura looked like she was about to protest, then she saw Pidge's sunshine bright face and closed her mouth, a fond smile ghosting her lips.

"Well, here you go!" and Coran handed her a big green balloon.

"You can't be serious Coran." Pidge immediately deflated.

"Oh absolutely! The camera attached to the bottom of the balloon is also the hacking interface so that our fake general here," Coran slapped Shiro's broad shoulder, then disappeared back into the wardrobe, "can pass any identification scans with his ID. The reason for the balloon is that we actually need to be close to the computer interface to hack into the identification mainframe. There's a chimney that you'll have to pop this balloon over that is right beside it."

"But a _balloon_?"

"Aaand overalls!" Coran popped out of the wardrobe and danced the dark green corduroy clothing over to Pidge, who was looking more and more horrified, "You're going to be inside in the Kremlin's courtyard with your guardian, Kera Karchovic." Here, Coran put his arm around Allura, who tried to look enthusiastic about the arrangement. Hunk felt for her. He did. Pidge was a bit of a handful at times, especially when she was in a grumpy mood. Not one to keep her emotions inside, Pidge had made it clear on several occasions what she thought of Allura's leadership style. Allura, for her part, was very strict. Not that that was a bad thing per se, but Allura's firm leadership style often clashed with Pidge's spontaneity. Add a rather patronizing balloon and corduroy overalls to the mix and someone was bound to lose their cool eventually. It was just a matter of when.

"Hunk, you will be communications and backup. You'll be parked in the electrical van after it has a makeover beside the Kremlin parking lot. You will also have to be out in electricians gear, as the Kremlin security is a little more thorough than that of the prison."

Hunk nodded, becoming excited, "Is there an actual problem to fix?"

"Naturally!" Coran sang, "The grand suites of the Kremlin visitor wing have been tragically without cable or wifi for the past few hours. The electrical company will be sending someone as soon as they can. Which will be early this afternoon." Coran indicated to Hunk.

Hunk pumped his fist to his chest, "Yus." He breathed.

Hunk was glad had a simple, enjoyable task this mission. He, like everyone else, were still recovering to some level from their last big 'mission'- if it could be called that, it was unsanctioned after all- and his leg was still giving him pains. He was yet unable to sprint and fight properly, but sit and act as communications? Repair some electrical wiring? Provide backup if it came to that? He was right there. It also gave Lance and Pidge a chance to shine more, and he knew that Lance especially needed a confidence boost after being blinded for weeks not so long ago and not, as of yet, being put properly back out in the field. Pidge also really needed the distraction. Frankly, any relief from the failure of that 'mission' with a big, capital High Stakes mission, such as this one, was welcome as far as Hunk was concerned. It gave him the time to make sure his team was okay.

"And, I believe that is everyone." Coran looked around to make sure he hadn't forgotten anyone and Hunk followed his gaze. Shiro appeared to be very calm, almost content, though Hunk noticed his hand twitching a little. Allura looked resigned to her position as 'Pidge-sitter'. Said Pidge looked as unhappy about her circumstance as a duck in a desert and dearest Lance looked ready to float off the floor. Hunk, himself, was jittery with nerves, but what else was new? He was confident that he knew he could play his part right and his team could do theirs just as well.

"Right team Voltron," Coran slapped his hands together, the sound snapping their attention fully back to him, "Getting in is only the first step, of course. Once Shiro and Lance reach the archive room, there's a whole other fish to fry. Observe if you will..."

As Coran outlined the plan, the team's eyes grew bigger with every detail. This was not going to be easy.


	4. The Kremlin

**As promised!**

 **The Kremlin**

The Kremlin was just as grand as Lance had imagined it to be, and thrice as imposing. The bright red bricks of the fortification were stark in contrast against the green watch towers, elegant and bold in the clear afternoon light. The Spasskaya Tower scraped the sky with its sheer white spires and the golden Kremlin star shone blindingly from the sunlight. Below, the grand clock on its tower ticked slowly towards two o'clock.

Lance was trembling with excitement. Holding a large, black bag that was designed to pass security, he walked briskly behind Shiro- erm, General Anatoly. And _quiznack_ , did he look the part. Shiro was wearing a greying moustache, his eyebrows and hairline also dusted grey to make him appear almost thirty years older. His eyes were hooded by his military cap and he walked, well, marched was more like it, through the Arsenal as though he owned it, confidence and a commanding, military air that demanded obedience practically oozed off of him. Lance was almost put off. Shiro looked frickin' intimidating.

Much to his chagrin, Lance was in less prosthetics, though he was wearing much more make up. Behind a pair of unattractive, circular, gold rimmed glasses that were probably made for _dedushkas_ , his face was covered in a lighter foundation so to disguise his darker, Cuban skin. It was skilfully done (by his own hands, of course) well enough so as not to appear stark or off, but just enough to work with the disguise. His hands were not a problem as the white gloves both he and Shiro were wearing took care of hiding both their finger prints and any visible scars.

Outside the Arsenal and inside the courtyard of the Kremlin with the other tourists, Allura and Pidge were wandering around, Allura with a video camera in hand, Pidge with her balloon.

Allura had to admit, Pidge indeed looked the part of 'little eight year old girl' in her dark green overalls and striped brown, orange and pink shirt and shiny black dress shoes. Her balloon sealed the deal. Well, that, and the two small pony tails in green hair bands peeking out of the bottom of her fuzzy white hat. She had switched her black leather gloves for softer, white ones to match the hat. For all the discomfort and revulsion Allura could see just behind her round, baby-soft face, she had to commend Pidge for her acting skills. The tech genius was skipping around with her balloon in hand, tugging at Allura's sleeve and pointing at the watch towers. If Allura had been one of the hundreds of tourists around, she would have been entranced by the little bright eyed, fluffy haired girl.

Pidge had just come up to her and was tugging on her sleeve again. Allura bent down to see where Pidge was pointing, following her finger to see the golden tips of the Ivan the Great Bell Tower. The signal to check that it was time to let the balloon go.

Allura smiled fondly at Pidge and nodded, also pointing at the towers.

Pidge smiled back and skipped around Allura, suddenly tripping over the cobble stones and falling to the ground, her balloon slipping out of her hands. Looking up in mock sadness- were those actual _tears_ in her eyes?- Allura helped Pidge up, comforting her with cooing sounds. Pidge straightened, her disguise falling as the dread symbol of her character floated away in the breeze towards the Arsenal chimneys.

"Can I have the camera now?" She asked, dusting her overalls off.

Allura hesitated, knowing that she was supposed to be the one who worked the camera, but she gave in, allowing Pidge to take the device.

They then slowly made their way to a bench, Pidge all but ignoring Allura. Her attention was now elsewhere as she closely watched the video feed off the camera in the little hacking device attached to the green balloon.

Lance tried to keep his eyes straight ahead as they marched closer to the entrance but he couldn't keep them still. He saw the decorated guards marching in their uniformed walk, guns held out, arms reaching to their noses and whooshing right back down like toy soldiers on parade. He saw the Russian flag fluttering on its tall stand, another Kremlin star poised on the tip like a Christmas tree topper. He saw the commanders and generals, stopping their conversation to stand to attention as Shiro passed, Shiro giving only the curtest of nods in response.

Lance swelled with excitement again. This was his hero. He was on mission- a dangerous, high- maybe even the highest- level mission. He hadn't been this excited since before... well, before their other highest level mission. Which wasn't even a sanctioned mission so saying it was a 'mission' was perhaps pushing it, but no. Lance reminded himself. It had a plan, an objective, high stakes and every importance to each of them. It _had_ been a mission. Lance's eyes suddenly ached and he blinked, almost itching them before remembering who he was supposed to be in this moment and telling himself to suck it up.

Lance just prayed that this mission wouldn't end like the last one did.

Glancing at Shiro, Lance suddenly felt calmer. Shiro seemed to ooze composure and confidence and Lance suddenly couldn't help himself,

"This is so exciting. Being out it the field. With you. It's a bit of a dream. For me that is."

Shiro glanced at Lance a few times without moving his head.

"You look great, by the way," Lance gushed, still being sure to keep his voice at a hushed whisper, "You look just like him. It's a shame we're not wearing masks though. You know, like, full masks. Everyone gets to wear masks but Lance McLain. I mean, I wouldn't want to put this face behind a piece of rubber either but, you know, it's a _mask._ It's, like, one of the reasons I joined AIS in the first place."

Lance glanced at Shiro, who was staring at him. Lance suddenly gasped at what he had said. He had said their agency name. Out loud. On mission. In disguise. Lance sputtered out an apology, "I-I'm so sorry. I'm kinda, well, not nervous, just tense. I babble when I'm tense. Well, Pidge would say I babble all the time but I- I'm doing it again. Shut up Lance."

Pidge hugged the camera close to her chest, preventing Allura from seeing the feed. Allura was becoming annoyed. She wanted to see the feed as well. Allura stopped herself. How three-years-old was that thought? Allura watched Pidge watching the video camera, eyes darting in little twitching millimetres as she followed the balloon's position. Alert and completely absorbed.

Allura sighed suddenly and rubbed her eyes with her hand. She had maybe had four hours sleep in the past three days. She was just tired. Heaven knows everyone was. And it wasn't going to get much easier after this. There was still the Galra. Always the Galra.

They had been a secret organization since pre-antiquity, making them the oldest criminal organization in the world. They had never been fully extinguished at any one moment and had recently begun an aggressive new rise in the world under their new leader, Zarkon. Over the past decade or more, the new head of the Galra criminal empire had personally orchestrated sixty-three terrorist attacks. That the AIS knew of. The Galra criminal empire itself had taken over almost every major crime syndicate in the world. It was a virus gone epidemic and it needed to stop. Allura's father, Alfor, knew this as much as anyone. Allura had seen few others who worked with as much passion and nobility as her father to eliminate the Galra. Perhaps obsessively so. But perhaps that was what was required.

Allura hardened her gaze. She had that passion matched. There hadn't been a day over the past few months that she had been Team Leader for Voltron that she hadn't devoted to finding Honerva Haggar, the Galra witch. Maybe, however, maybe that obsession had been the reason her team disobeyed her direct orders almost four months ago now and almost... Allura closed her eyes and took a breath. Past worries did the present no good.

A strong breeze whipped Allura's hair and she turned to Pidge, knowing that strong winds could put their entire operation at risk. She leaned closer, trying to see if the gust had affected the balloon's course.

"Personal space Allura." Pidge muttered without looking up.

"I just want to make sure the balloon is still on course." Allura said.

"Of course it is. I accounted for wind, and rain, and breezes, and air quality. It's fine." Pidge was obviously not in a talking mood.

"I'm just trying to help." Allura said, frowning.

"Well you're not doing a good job of it." Pidge growled.

Allura wasn't sure what about that response rubbed her the exact wrong way- the tone? The underlying venom behind it? The know-it-all eye roll that she had just about enough of? Allura prided herself on her ability to remain calm, but this was not going to be one of those times.

"You weren't supposed to be with the video camera in the first place, but I gave it to you when you took it without so much as a please. If anyone is being unhelpful around here, it's you." She hissed.

Now Pidge looked up, her eyes blazing, "I should have the video camera. I'm the tech agent. It's tech! I had my last mission not in the chair. I'm done probation now. I'm back to normal again, I'm fine. It's the next mission. I know what I'm doing."

Allura threw her hands up to the sky, "No you _don't_! You're a child Pidge. A child. You barely know how to keep your emotions in check let alone keep a mission running smoothly without causing some sort of drama."

Pidge seemed to choke, "I'm dramatic? You're the one that has to micromanage everything! We were the best team for a reason, Allura. At least Alfor let us do our jobs!"

Allura was too worked up now for the jab to take any effect, "You want to know what Alfor did? He cuddled you. He let you have full reign and do whatever your little fingers pleased on that keyboard. I've got news for you green one. That's not how a Paladin works! He treated you like you were some golden child!"

"I AM THE BEST!" Pidge finally stood up. Luckily there were very few people around even though Allura barely cared, she was so exasperated, "Find me someone better at tech than me, I dare you Allura! I _quiznackin_ ' dare you!"

Allura stood up, towering over Pidge, her last strain of composure gone, "Only complements motivate your magical fingers to do your work that you should be doing _no matter_ the circumstances. You all say that Lance has the biggest ego on the team, but I know better. If only sweet talk and sugar can get you to perform basic objectives _Katie_ , then you're not a real agent and you'll certainly _never_ be a real Paladin!"

Lance felt just like a real Paladin.

"Okay, metal detectors, security checks, no pat downs though, nothing we didn't prepare for." He muttered as he grabbed the big black bag and scurried after Shiro.

They passed the gate check with ease, Shiro doing all the speaking and Lance just nodding stiffly when appropriate.

They were now walking up a staircase carpeted in a lush red, marble columns and gold trimmings soaring above them. Lance nodded at the saluting security guard as they neared the front desk. Game face. Game face. Kremlin game face.

Lance cheered to himself as they passed it. _Ura!_ Yay! Finally into the Kremlin and one step closer to-

" _Excuse me commander, may I see your identification."_ The guard called.

They both stopped still.

 _Der'mo._

Lance waited for Shiro to move. It was all up to him now.

Well, him, and the ID hacking device that should be in the chimney by now scrambling the system.

Allura saw Pidge's face crumble.

She had gone too far.

Immediately, all anger and annoyance evaporated and Allura was hit with a wave of guilt. Of course Pidge was tense and snippy. It was a stressful situation to put it mildly. Naturally, she was dramatic and attention seeking. She needed the same amount of love that any young teenager would. Of course she was selfish and private. Anyone would be if their brother and father had gone missing.

Allura opened her mouth to say something but Pidge beat her to it.

"The agency took everything from me." Her voice, though trembling, was colder than any Russian winter and just as biting, "I _gave_ this agency everything. I gave them my brother. I gave them my Dad. I gave them me and all I could possibly come with. And they took it all. My brother is gone. My Dad is gone. And I'm still here, giving all of myself to this _stupid shithole_ of an agency through hacking and coding and _revolutionizing_ AIS' tech agency, so don't you _dare_ say I will never be a Paladin when I've earned that title a hundred times over by now! But do you think anyone ever gives me a second glance? No. They take one look at the kid with the wide set teeth, or the big round glasses slipping off her nose, or the hoodie falling over her eyes and walk right on by, cause I'll just be hacking into another government again soon anyway- after all, where else am I supposed to go? They can't let me go into the normal world now! I know too much! I'm too dangerous to be a civilian anymore. I will _never_ be rid of the agency, or the AIS, or the damn _paladins_! I can only keep on giving and giving and giving until I'm killed. Cause that's what happens, right? That's what... that's what we're here for, right? Agents _die_. It's what they do. You'll all die a-and I will too. Someday soon, I'll just be shot or strangled o-or poisoned or... e-exploded or or-"

In one gentle sweep, Allura's arms scooped up Pidge and she held the agent shuddering lose. Stroking her soft hair, Allura's heart broke for the smallest paladin as she rocked Pidge like a mother would a frightened baby. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.

Pidge suddenly started hiccupping.

Allura looked down in soft surprise to see the widest, most golden, shiniest eyes looking back up at her.

 _Hic._

Allura couldn't help it. It was so small. So quick. So _cute_.

She burst out giggling.

A suddenly indignant Pidge wiggled her way out of Allura's arms, wiping away any tears still on her cheeks, "That's - _hic-_ that's not- _hic-_ that's not funny Allu- _hic-_ ra!"

Seeing Pidge defend herself, her cheeks still bright red and her bottom lip out in a pout only made Allura laugh harder, "Hahaha! Oh, oh Pidge, I-hahaha- I'm so-hoho- I'm so sorry, I just haha- I'm just- oh hehehehe!"

Pidge just stared. She stared until her eyes started to crinkle in the corners. She stared until her mouth began to twitch. She stared until she too, was so overcome with giggles she had to sit down so as to not fall over, her legs splayed out before her like a toddler, the hiccups moving her entire body as she laughed and laughed until she couldn't breathe and she fell over to catch her breath.

Allura gasped in some air as she leaned forward, meeting Pidge's smile. Probably the first genuine smile Pidge had ever given her.

" _You should recognize your commanding officer, private."_ Shiro took slow, deliberate steps towards the guard. Lance couldn't be sure, but he swore he just saw a shiver cross the guard's shoulders.

Shiro placed his identification on the counter, two fingers remaining pressed on it.

The guard was forced to pry the badge from under Shiro's fingers. He must have been pressing down on it for a moment because the guard lost his grip. On the second try, the guard slid the badge easily away from Shiro's hand which curled inwards like a deep sea creature folding back into its cave.

The guard looked up a few times as he opened the badge and scanned it. Lance thought he looked like a squirrel, twitchy and nervous. He was sure to take all his want to grin and manically chuckle and put it towards looking annoyed and insulted at the guard's actions. How dare he stop _the General_. How. Dare. He.

The scanner's light showed its progress as the computer waited to load the results. Lance checked his 'phone'. It was programmed to show the hacking device's progress. A red bar glared up at Lance, "Not Connected."

Well _quiznack_.

Allura and Pidge had finally calmed down.

Still taking deep breaths and Pidge still hiccupping, Allura shook her head and flopped back on the bench. What a tirade of emotions to go through in such a short amount of time.

Her fingers brushed something. She looked down to see the video camera, showing the balloon floating just above the chimney.

"Quiznack!" She hissed, grabbing the camera.

Pidge caught on and hissed her own string of swear words that would have made a sailor wince.

Allura fumbled with the camera and clicked the centre button. With a pop, the balloon was gone and the hacking device tumbled down the chimney in a series of clicks against the sides, coming to rest in a few seconds at the sooty bottom of the brick.

"It will work right away right?" Allura asked hurriedly. They may have just blown the entire operation before it even started.

Pidge nodded, pulling out her phone, "It should be working now. Here." She held up her device that showed a loading percentage that was increasing far too slowly in Allura's opinion.

Lance almost fainted in relief when his phone 'connected' and began to load. But the loading was taking far too long.

The computer bleeped a displeased sound and the guard kept his eyes on the computer. He did not want to tell the General the news, but he found his voice, " _I'm sorry General, you are not showing up in the system._ "

Shiro sighed a big, long sigh of exasperation, his face never moving past a military mask of displeasure.

99%. 100%. Connected.

Lance put his phone back into his pocket and nudged Shiro's boot with his own.

" _Try again."_ Shiro said slowly.

" _Private."_ Lance added, sneering.

The guard tried it again.

Almost immediately, with a high, happy bleep, the ID badge was accepted.

The guard gave the badge back with a salute, " _Apologies General, I did not recognize you."_

Shiro just took the badge with an icy look and walked away.

Lance stooped to pick his bags back up. But he couldn't resist, " _Your superiors will hear about this private. Pfff."_ He blew through his lips in exasperation. If he had had long hair, like a mullet or something, he would have flicked it as he walked away.

99%. 100%. Connected.

Both Allura and Pidge exhaled and slumped against each other on the bench. After a moment of rest for their drumming hearts, Allura rose and stretched her back. Turning to Pidge, somehow still slumped in the same position she had been on Allura, she extended her hand, "We should go and meet Hunk at the van now that our part is done."

Pidge looked at the offered hand and grasped it, adding a little bounce to her rise when she got to her feet, "I've been wanting to tweak the coms for months now. They're set up in the van still right?"

Of course they were. The com units were never set up anywhere else, but Allura knew the question for what it really was. Pidge's roundabout way of checking that she was fully cleared for tech duty again.

Allura smiled, "They always were, Paladin."

Pidge looked shocked for but a tick, the moment the emotion showed on her face was the moment she covered it up with a soft smile back. But Allura noticed her head tilted slightly back as Pidge walked ahead of her back to the van. She was glowing in excitement.

Allura took one look back to the Kremlin as they exited the property. She hoped things were going smoother for Shiro and Lance then they had for her and Pidge.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Next chapter is where shit really goes down- so stay tuned!**

 **Please favourite and review! Let me know what you thought! Was the argument in character? Any questions? Let me know!**

 **Thanks again for reading!**


	5. Standing By to Detonate

Appologies friends! I still have exams coming up after all my final assignments so it might be a while again, but I will keep posting! Never fear!

 **Chapter 4**

"I think that went quite well." Lance whispered to Shiro as they entered the main hallway of the building.

" _Don't talk anymore."_ Shiro hissed in Russian.

" _Prosti!"_ Lance ducked his head and fell into step behind the General as they walked passed saluting soldiers and through yawning wooden double doors.

They passed through a darkened ballroom on their way down to the archives and Lance, subdued from Shiro's chastening, barely glanced around, but from what he saw, the white walls were engraved with gold and above him, chandeliers begging to be lit dripped with crystals. The mirrors on the walls reflected each other and made the exquisite room continue for eternity and made his eyes hurt. In the back of his head, Lance assumed the ceiling was beautifully painted with clouds, cherubs and gods and goddesses but he and Shiro passed through another door and down to the archives before curiosity got the better of him.

As soon as Shiro turned the corner, his entire body shifted. He was no longer the stoic military man, but an AIS agent with a time constraint. He flew down the stairs, Lance jumping down behind him to keep up.

"About to enter the archive room, do you copy Yellow?" Shiro said into the coms.

"Roger that Black. I can just see Pink and Green making their way back here. Coms will now be on silent to prevent detection in three, two, one."

Shiro inserted a key card device into the lock on the door ahead. Lance looked around to make sure no one was coming down the stairs as he heard a click form the door; the combination was hacked within seconds, thank you Pidge and Hunk.

Once it was unlocked, Shiro paused and looked at Lance, nodding. Lance nodded back. _Clear._ And they opened the door.

Lance's body moved into action and he put down the satchel he was carrying. Taking out a flip phone like device, he tossed it to Shiro who caught it and clipped it to the wiring of the security camera watching the short hallway in front of them, freezing the feed and making them invisible.

Without looking up from his bag, Lance handed Shiro a tech pad and removed their secret weapon of the mission. The shimmering material gleamed in the bright hall lights as Lance crept up to Shiro, who was crouching at the corner of the hallway. He had the flexible camera bent around the corner, spying out the archives hallway.

Lance looked at the camera's feed displayed on the pad. The hallway was wide and well lit. There was a large, marble statue slightly behind them against the wall where the hallway they were looking at split into a 'T'. A plush red carpet lined the floor, which Lance thought was a little excessive for an archive room but hey, it was to their advantage as their feet would be muted the entire time.

A single guard sat at a large desk at the other end of the long hallway and Lance felt sorry for the guy for a moment. He would probably be fired if anyone found out they were here. However, he reminded himself, the whole point was to conduct this mission in stealth. No one was to know anything was tampered with or examined or touched in any way. Allura made sure to tell that to Lance. Four times.

The phone suddenly rang, its noise cutting into the stuffy silence so that Lance jumped. Taking out a sort of odd, flashlight-looking object, Lance eagerly pointed it towards the guard, assuming this was the distraction they needed. Shiro grabbed his arm to stop him before he could.

Motioning to the pad in his hand showing the guard talking on the phone around the corner, Shiro nodded towards it.

 _Wait until he is done on the phone._

Lance swallowed, nodding back, suddenly nervous. He could have made the distraction with the device and the guard would have told whoever it was on the other line about it and it could have people coming down to investigate, blowing the whole operation before it barely began. Lance was better than this. He knew he was. This wasn't his first mission and it wasn't like he was even doing anything particularly hard either. But he was directly in the field. His first real field mission since the 'mission'.

Without warning, flashes of lights seemed to burst behind Lance's eyes. There was a muted boom deep in his eardrums. Lance was alone. It was dark. Something burned; something smelled like it was burning. Lance had the sudden urge to violently rub his eyes.

The young Paladin had to physically shift to shake himself out of his own head. _Think Lance THINK. Focus. You know what you have to do. You're a sniper, a sharpshooter, you don't just shoot everyone who comes around a corner. Patience padawan. You wait. Patiently wait. You are_ not _trigger happy._

Shiro eased the pad onto his crouched knee and gripped Lance's shoulder. Lance looked into his eyes. He didn't know what he was expecting; urgency? Anger? Annoyance? Patronizing comfort? But it wasn't that. It was understanding. Warmth. A sort of care he hadn't seen directed at him from a leader since, well, since Alfor.

Lance just blinked back, composing himself, and nodded. Barely. But it was enough and Shiro picked the pad back up, watching the feed of the guard still on the phone.

Lance watched Shiro watching the pad. Eyes alert and twitching as he watched for an opening, mind probably running scenarios or gun types or state birds just to be active. This guy was amazing. He was his hero. Everyone knows the stories of people who meet their heroes only to be disappointed in their normality, their underwhelming abilities, the fact that they didn't live up to desperately high expectations. Not this one. No, Shiro was everything Lance imagined he would be. And more. And for what? For his genius and ability and dedication to the AIS, he was thrown in a prison only to be let out just because the agency needed him. He had gone through something no paladin could imagine. Losing his team. Going against orders to avenge them. Lance had trained himself a long time ago not to think too hard of what he would do if he lost his team, but he had grazed the thought enough to know that, he too, would do anything he could to avenge them no matter what the AIS said.

Without thinking, Lance suddenly whispered to Shiro, "I'm sorry." Shiro glanced at him and nodded in acknowledgement, probably thinking Lance was apologising for the little moment back there, "About your time in jail." Shiro slowly looked back at Lance, "And your team, you know? I-I just wanted to let you know that, well, I would be devastated if I lost mine and, well, I don't think you did anything wrong, disobeying the agency or anything."

Shiro looked at Lance for a moment too long, brown knit together, mouth parted like he wanted to say something, almost like he was confused.

Lance glanced down at the pad, "He's off the phone now."

Shiro was shook out of his thoughts and nodded for Lance to do the distraction.

Lance raised the device and clicked the button.

 _Plink_

A drip noise echoed off the walls. The device was an SDD- Sound Distraction Device. A brilliant little toy that allowed a sound like a drip or a bell or a ring to be projected off walls and ceilings so that a person across a room would hear it, but not really know where it was coming from.

Lance pressed the button one more time.

 _Plink-a-plick_

It did the trick, the guard stood up and walked over to the side to investigate. He peered around a corner and then opened a side closet.

As soon as the door was opened, Shiro and Lance moved.

Pressing and extending buttons and a few attachments, within seconds, a screen was popped open, perfectly fitting the height and width of the hallway. Lance attached the specialized eyeline camera just as the guard walked back out. Shiro placed the pad at the bottom of the screen, attaching it to the camera. The camera immediately caught the guard's sightline and the screen sprang to life, projecting the hallway behind them as if they were never there. As the guard walked back to his desk, the camera followed his eyes, adjusting the angles and position of the statue and hallway as the guard would regularly see.

Lance raised the SDD again and clicked.

 _Pa-plik_

The guard walked away again, more determined this time to find the cause of the dripping.

As soon as he disappeared from the camera's sight, Shiro motioned with his head to move.

The SDD in his teeth, Lance lifted his side of the screen and Shiro lifted his and they walked as quickly and quietly as they could, trying to reach the archive door in the hallway ahead on their left.

With the sound of a door closing, Shiro nodded a halt and the two men barely breathed. The guard walked back and sat in his seat.

Lance took the SDD and pressed again.

 _Plink plakak._

The guard looked around incredulously, getting up and putting his ear to the wall behind him. But he didn't go through any more doors.

Lance looked at Shiro for his call.

Shiro nodded forward and forward they went, so quietly even Lance couldn't hear their movement.

At last passing the door they needed to get into, Shiro nodded a halt and they paused as the guard turned again and sat down.

Shiro motioned to Lance and Lance, with one big, silent tip toe, stepped to the middle of the screen and crouched to pick up the pad. Standing slowly, looking at the screen and trying to remember exactly what to do. Suddenly, Lance was face to face with the camera's projector making his wide eyes and nose the sudden centre of the projector's screen.

The guard looked up to find an empty hallway, but he stared longer than he should have, probably getting the sense that he was being watched. Behind the screen, Lance was balancing backwards on one foot with Shiro's hand on his face, trying as hard as Shiro not to breathe too loudly as adrenalin pounded his ears. They could only watch with wide eyes and bated breath as the guard slowly went back to his work.

Putting his leg down as quietly as he could, Lance gaped at Shiro who was looking at him sternly, if not very relieved.

The pad blinked at them, showing 'render complete' and Shiro turned to the projector and slowly ran his hand across it. When the screen remained a picture of the hallway, Shiro gripped Lance's shoulder again, _Everything worked out, it's all good._

Lance just nodded, suddenly wanting nothing more than for the mission to be over.

Putting the pad back in its slot at the bottom of the screen, Lance followed Shiro to the archive door as he inserted the key card again to get the code for the door. With a click that would have, in any other circumstance, been barely heard that now boomed in Lance's ears, the door opened with a soft hush of air.

Shiro slipped inside and Lance remained at the door.

Lance returned to the pad, fiddling with the SDD, ready to activate it if the guard got a little antsy. His heart was pumping in his hears and he knew his adrenalin was going to crash soon. Glancing back to the door, Lance urged Shiro to hurry up.

After a few more seconds, another feeling began to creep in. A sort of sixth sense.

Something was happening. Something bad.

Alfor had taught them about it, a gut feeling, an inner time clock, a third eye. He taught them to listen to it.

Lance rose, looking around.

They should get out. Now.

"It's empty." Shiro's voice was heard, breathless in disbelief over the com link, "The nest is empty."

Lance opened his mouth, but suddenly another sound was heard. Muffled and struggling. Distorted grunting. Lance knew that sound. He knew all of Voltron knew that sound. They had heard that sound when Alfor went into a mission because he didn't want the others to have to do such dirty work. It was the sound of life draining, of desperate struggle, of merciless precision. Someone was being strangled.

Lance pressed a finger to his ear. What the quiznack was going on?

 _Crack._

Lance physically flinched as the sound of a spine snapping was heard through the coms.

"Check in Team Leader. Over" Then, a voice, "Repeat, check in, Team Leader." Lance's heart rate spiked, "Have you made it to the Archive Room?" In the back of his mind, Lance knew that guards all over the Kremlin could be racing to their exact location, but he remained frozen.

Pidge, blessed familiar Pidge, was suddenly heard over the mysterious voice, "Someone is piggybacking our frequency!"

Lance rushed into the archive room, Shiro looked at him with the most serious face he had seen. Eyes hard and calculating, mouth set in a straight line. He held up a hand before Lance could say anything, the voice was still talking,

"Team Leader, awaiting your go-sign. Standing by to detonate."

Shiro looked at Lance and uttered the one word no agent ever hoped to hear on a mission, "Abort."

With that, Lance and Shiro walked out of the room, still keeping quiet as voices were heard behind them. As they neared the end of the hallway, Shiro just spoke two words to Lance, "Rendevouz six." And they split up.

Lance walked faster than he ever had before, trying to still look the part in case any guards came his way. He knew that by now, the guards would be converging on the archive room. The camera, not being able to keep up with so many different eyelines, would be going haywire and the gig would be up.

Reaching a long hallway leading out, Lance burst into a sprint, knowing that 'abort' meant just that. Abort. Forget about the mission, forget about the tech and everything else. Get. Out.

Bursting through a gateway, Lance slammed into a brick wall as he ran around a corner, a sharp pain blossoming in his shoulder. Pushing himself forward, he sprinted with all his might down the dimly lit passageway.

Panting, Lance slowed down as he neared the exit. Coming out at the west gatehouse as he had planned, Lance tightened his cap around his head.

The guards snapped to attention as he exited, his brain reminding him that he was, in fact, dressed as a corporal.

Lance glanced at the gate. Anyone could get out and, though it was unlikely that the person who piggybacked their frequency would come out this way too, Lance was suddenly venomous. No one who was after them would get out this way if he could help it.

He turned to the guards, " _Shut the gate!"_ He bellowed in Russian. He knew he said it right but the guards glanced at him as if unsure about the order, " _Quickly!"_ He snapped and the guards flew to obey.

As soon as he rounded the corner and exited the guardhouse, Lance ripped off the stripes on his pants and took off his hat, wiping the makeup off his face with a wipe in his hat as he went. Throwing the disguise in the bushes beside the gate, he ripped off the stiff collar to reveal an AC DC shirt underneath. He took off the military jacket and reversed it to a windbreaker. Taking out a pair of fake glasses, he put them on and took out the map of the Kremlin that Coran, that gorgeous man, had stowed in its pocket.

He was transformed from corporal to tourist before he passed the now closing gates on the other side.

Looking around, Lance saw the white van in the distance where the rest of his team should be waiting.

Walking purposefully through the crowded cobbled street outside the Kremlin, the ground suddenly shook beneath Lance's feet. Stumbling forward, Lance looked behind him as the ground rumbled again, the red brick of the Kremlin and the tall clock tower rising above him.

 _What the quiznack?_

Lance suddenly recalled the last words of the piggybacker, "Standing by to detonate." and his heart stopped.

Suddenly, a defining explosion shook the sky and the tower exploded into a cloud of black. Lance could only stand with an open mouth as the walls began exploding closer and closer, the force throwing him back into a parked car. The movement was enough to wake his brain up. Instinct flooded his limbs as he began to run, the world turning into dark smoke and flying brick as the explosions gained ground towards him. Lance had eyes only for the white van ahead. So far ahead. Ears ringing, and legs pumping, the smoke suddenly cleared and the sky could be seen as he seemed to emerge, for a moment, out of the explosions. For a second, for a single tick, hope rose in his chest. He had made it, he was clear, so what the quiznack was that anyw- before the thought could finish, the ground completely disappeared under him. A white hot force threw Lance in the air like a leaf and he was sent head over heels towards a black cloud of fire and shrapnel. There was an intense flash of red and then all went black.


	6. A Silver Lion Head

Yay exams are done! Posts should be more regular now hopefully!

 **Chapter 5**

Everything hurt.

His body, his head- _quiznack_ , even his eyes hurt, and for a timeless moment, all senses were overcome just by pain.

Then sound.

Beeping, buzzing, a bustling of people. Talking. Not English?

Shiro opened his eyes, wincing as the light pierced into his head.

The bright spots faded as he took in his surroundings. People passed by continuously. So he was in a hallway. Nurses helping bandaged and bloody patients. So this was after the attack. He noticed a tube coming from a hanging medical bad running into his hand. So he had been unconscious and vital for a while. He lifted his hand as he saw the blue and purple bruises along his knuckles and grew more awake as it stopped a few inches up, a handcuff clinking on the bed frame. So he was also a suspect.

Shifting his head some more, Shiro realized with relief that he wasn't restrained in any other way. One would be surprised at how many people thought his stump of an arm would be a threat somehow and made sure to hold him down another way. And they usually were right to do so.

A voice caught his ear and he angled his head as much as he could towards the Russian reporter's voice on a television outside of his vision, " _Officials are blaming an explosion underneath the Kremlin, to be the reason for the chain reaction. It is not yet clear what section of the Kremlin was affected but sources at the sight say that there is a massive crater in the northern corner of the grounds."_

The reporter went on, but Shiro turned his head and nestled back into his pillow, gathering his thoughts.

So he was chained to a hospital bed. Not the first time, but he was also injured and, he thought, moving his shoulders experimentally, weaker than he would have liked. He didn't feel any broken bones, but he was sure his ribs were severely bruised. He was sore all over and the ringing in his ears had yet to cease. He remembered running out of the Kremlin and successfully turning his disguise to that of a tourist. He had just spotted Lance walking briskly towards their white van a couple dozen feet away when the entire world shifted. He couldn't remember much after that except a cloud of smoke enveloping him as he was thrown in the air like a rag doll.

He hoped the team was okay. Lance was probably hit by the blast too. Worry bloomed through Shiro's chest. From what he could piece together, team Voltron had just barely emerged from a mission gone wrong, the last thing they needed was another failure right after. Shiro began to grow restless and knew he should be escaping momentarily. He had to get back to the team, he had to tell them... wait, what did he have to tell them? _Quiznack_ , there had been something he had to tell the team... something he had realized as he was running out of the Kremlin...

"Our media is no more truthful than you are." A thickly accented voice said.

Shiro looked up to see a stocky, wide face leering over him, "But we both know, that the cause of the explosion, was you." The man walked down his sight line and held up Shiro's two way jacket, revealing the General stars on the collar.

Throwing the jacket on the bed near Shiro's feet, the man leaned in and held a recording device close to Shiro's ear. Pressing it, a familiar voice spoke up just a little too loudly, causing Shiro to wince, "Awaiting your go-sign Team Leader. Standing by to detonate."

Shiro understood how all of this looked. He understood that this man was here to make him suffer for what happened. But Shiro had never been one to beg and he was absolutely not going to start now.

"So, 'Team Leader', where is the rest of your team then?"

Shiro looked at the man steadily.

The man took out a cigarette and put it in his mouth, waiting for a response. As he reached into his jacket for a light, a nurse yanked the cigarette out of his mouth and threw it on the ground,

 _"This is a hospital, not a night club"_ She chastised, tossing her paperwork beside Shiro's arm. Shiro, for his part, closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep as his fingers worked a paperclip loose from the papers. As the nurse wheeled his bed into a more private room, Shiro peeked through his eyelashes and saw the Russian Investigator standing at the door, watching the nurse as she picked up her papers, only to have them scatter all over the ground with nothing holding them together anymore.

Another man came up beside the Investigator, speaking to him in hushed tones. Shiro had to open his eyes a little more to watch their lips,

" _The doctors say he's lucky to be alive. Only a minor concussion and some bruised ribs."_

 _"I don't give a damn about his health. I have questions that need answering."_

Shiro stopped listening and shuffled his hand, getting it around the cuff.

A little too easily, it clicked open and he slid it off, taking out the tubing in his wrist with his teeth (something he would never recommend), and sliding off the bed in one quick movement.

A team of nurses wheeled a train of beds by the doorway, distracting the Investigators and Shiro seized the opportunity. There was only one door in and out of the room, so the window it would have to be.

Wearing only his dark pants from the mission, Shiro stepped out onto the windowsill, barely wide enough for him to shimmy along. Gripping the edge with his toes and spreading his arm out wide behind him, he shuffled along the edge until he reached the corner. Looking down, Shiro tensed his legs, a garbage pile on the ground three stories below, his destination.

Shiro's ribs ached in protest and his ears were still- still?- ringing. He stared down at the pile of garbage... there really weren't that many bags... and it was hospital garbage, meaning the bags were more likely to be filled with syringes than towels. Shiro swallowed. Maybe this wasn't the best plan after all.

As he began to turn around, he saw the Investigator leaning out the window, an unlit cigarette in hand, watching with an amused expression. The man looked down and then back at Shiro, raising his eyebrows. He motioned with his cigarette, _well, get on with it then._

Shiro just looked back down. What other choice did he have? He tensed, readying himself. But he still didn't move. This wasn't a movie. There wasn't any convenience to this. He would more than likely kill himself on the jump down rather than give himself up now and escape later when he was on the ground again.

The Investigator lit his cigarette, sensing he had won, "Not such a good idea anymore then?" he asked in English.

Shiro just shrugged, "Seemed like a good one a minute ago."

The man just nodded and gestured to Shiro like a toddler who realized it was time to come inside now.

Shiro just nodded, looking defeated and carefully shimmied back along the windowsill. Were his bare feet really that dirty?

The start of a motor suddenly caught Shiro's attention and he looked down the street to see a large van beginning to drive past the hospital.

Shiro looked up to see a piece of cable, probably an electrical wire, running from the floor above, down to the entrance of an apartment building across the street. His hand moved quickly, untying his belt from around his waist. Caution may help you not to die, but instinct keeps you alive. An old AIS saying. Shiro looked up and swung it around the wire and caught it again, wrapping his fist around it.

Before the Investigator could even cry out, Shiro launched himself into the air, the belt careening him down towards the roof of the vehicle. Tensing, Shiro let go and fell the rest of the way onto the van, bouncing off and rolling along the cobble stones. The van skidded to the side, the driver shouting a string of curses.

Shiro looked up at the shocked face of the Investigator, still staring out the window. Shiro probably matched his expression. Quickly checking himself over at a glance, Shiro looked one last time at the Investigator, who drew out a gun, and wasted no time in picking himself up and sprinting down the street and around the corner.

It had been a long time since Pidge had felt so at ease as she had been when she had sat back in her chair in the white van after she and Allura had returned to the rendezvous. She had sighed and sank deep into the hard, crusty cushions of the creaky swivel chair, practically purring.

Pidge frowned to herself as she made her way down a cobbled Russian street. In hindsight she probably didn't even notice the first of the explosions she was so blissfully content. But she had absolutely felt the ones after.

Pidge wrapped her arms around her body as she rounded another corner. The entire van had suddenly rocked, equipment rattling dangerously and Pidge had looked to Hunk, her breath caught in her throat. He matched her wide eyes and they had grabbed each other's arms as Allura yanked the van door open to see what was going on.

Pidge halted her train of thought as she caught sight of a large man in a dark hooded coat ahead, walking quickly. Speeding up her pace, Pidge was about to shout his name when the man turned into a bar and she saw that he was bearded and blond. Not Shiro.

Pidge bit her lip and slowed again as she continued on her way to the Roijevick Hospital. There were quite a few hospitals in the capital and Pidge and Hunk had already searched three between the two of them. Pidge absently picked at her gloved hands as she stopped herself from worrying too much. There were still two more. Shiro could be in either. She picked up her pace. She wanted to find Shiro as soon as she could so she could get back to the safe house and see Lance. Oh Lance.

Pidge's ever logical brain assaulted her- again- with his injuries:

Minor concussion

Multiple lacerations

Bruising

First and second degree burns along his shoulder.

Pidge gripped her gloved hands.

They had all rushed out of the van as soon as Allura opened the door to a scene out of a disaster movie. Smoke and dust was everywhere, explosions still shook the ground where they stood and fires glowed in the blackened air. The rumbling and crumbling of brick and buildings was the only noise to be heard for minutes until they stopped, and then the screaming. So much screaming. Loud, guttural, throat tearing shouts that were scorched into Pidge's memory by pure sound alone. Hunk had been the first to start shouting too. Allura and Pidge were quick to join as they rushed into the fray, looking for Lance and Shiro.

Allura had found Lance, not a dozen feet away from the van, unconscious and covered in soot. So much so there was almost no way to tell what was blood and what was burned skin and what was just ash. Hunk had picked him up delicately and brought him back to the van. Pidge had just watched. She couldn't lift Lance. She couldn't offer medical help like Allura. She had just stood there, looking around, mouth open and eyes unblinking, absorbing the chaos around her like a dry sponge whether she wanted to or not.

The sound of approaching sirens had snapped her out of whatever stupor she had been in and Pidge had rushed back to the van, her brain once again working to find a logical hold on reality. More than she would like to admit, Pidge was often frustrated at how her brain was wired to immediately asses a situation for what it was in facts and statistics but this time, she knew it would save them. They were in an unmarked white van that was barely dirty, parked just enough distance away from the explosions to have survived and were still on the scene of what could only be a major terrorist attack. They had to get out of here.

Hunk had looked at her like she had injured him personally, Lance's head in his lap. Pidge hadn't realized she had said that last part out loud until Allura had agreed with Pidge's statement at the same time Hunk had asked about Shiro.

Pidge had felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She had, in all honesty, forgotten about Shiro. They had Lance, he was in need of medical attention and they were too conspicuous out in the open like this. She hadn't thought past those facts before her but before she could respond, Allura had made the call. Hunk had gaped in protest, but it was half hearted. His friend was hurting and was right there in his lap. No one had any idea of where to even begin looking for Shiro.

And that was why Pidge was here now; less than a block away from the last hospital she had to check for Shiro. Hunk was on the other side of the city checking his last hospital. After that, probably the trauma centers and, frankly, the police stations and consulates and multiple other areas. Hospitals were only one place out of many Shiro could be in the city.

She tugged absentmindedly at her grey-white hood over her head and pulled her green jacket closer. No one should technically know her face was involved with the accident, but it never hurt to be cautious. Besides, it was chilly and getting towards evening now. Russian nights were cold, and dangerous.

Just as Pidge's brain was about to begin another tangent on the subject, a body flew out of nowhere and bowled straight into her. Pidge was sent spinning into a building as she was left to untangle her twisted legs. A rushed _Prosti!_ was all that was given from the person in return. Pidge turned and was about to let off a barrage of curses- Russian curses at that- that would have her paying up the swear jar long after she turned grey when her words died on her lips. She recognized that white streak and wide jaw and he had just disappeared around an alleyway.

Stumbling back around, Pidge took off after Shiro, "Hey wait! Wait! Yo!"

She rounded the corner to see Shiro almost already at the end of the ally. _Quiznack_ the guy could move.

"BLACK!"

Pidge knew she shouldn't have screamed. She also knew that, since she had just alerted any pursuers to their location, it probably didn't matter to use Shiro's code name instead of his real name. But she also knew that, even sprinting as hard as she could, she could never hope to overtake the paladin agent silently and he would be long gone in seconds when he rounded that corner.

Regardless, it was done now and it worked. Shiro skidded to a stop (in _bare feet_ , Pidge winced) at the corner and turned. Recognition dawned on his face and he turned back and began walking towards her. Pidge smiled and gave a little finger wave.

Even from where Pidge was standing, she could see that Shiro looked awful. He had no shirt or shoes on, his hair was matted and frizzled, his face was still dirty with soot and his chest looked like someone had drawn on it with blue and purple marker and then smudged it all over.

Suddenly, Shiro started sprinting towards her, his eyes focused above her head. Pidge frowned and turned, just barely ducking in time to avoid a fist to the face that would have sent her flying.

Dodging and moving back, Pidge spun and crouched low, taking in the short, stocky man and a few other official looking goons behind him.

She barely had a chance to register them all before Shiro was upon them, shouting a quick, "Green, _get down_!", before tackling them like a bowling ball to ninepins. He slammed into the stocky one first, knocking him into those behind him. Pidge gaped as the guy's feet were literally sent flying in the air as he was forced to the ground, his head clacking against the cobble.

The other goons were recovering and were reaching into their coats. Instinct flooded her limbs and Pidge charged the nearest one before he even registered her movement, grabbing his clothing and climbing up him like a tree. _You're small Pidge, but you're also fast. Use it to the advantage- no one expects a kid to charge them, much less be a skilled fighter._ She went for his throat and latched around it like a python, holding on for dear life as he thrashed. _Don't let go. Never let go._ The man backed up and slammed her against a wall. Pidge's breath caught in her throat but she hung deftly on. _When you think you can't anymore, do it longer! Always just a little longer!_ His hands reached up, clawing at her face. She brought up one of her legs and latched onto an arm, securing it tightly. _Whatever they can do to you is always far more dangerous head on than anything they could do to you while you're on their back._ Pidge bit a grabbing finger, getting a yelp in return and hissed as nails scratched her temple. _It's faster in the movies. It will take anywhere from two to three minutes for a grown man to succumb to strangulation._ The movements were finally sluggish and staggered and the man at last sunk to his knees, falling forward into an unconscious heap.

Slowly unlatching herself from her hold, Pidge thanked Alfor for his rigorous training and stood to see Shiro staring at her, eyebrows high into his forehead.

Pidge was breathing heavily as she looked around to see the rest of the men, also unconscious and in various states of injury, on the ground surrounding them.

Pidge curled her lip and smacked her tongue around, "You wouldn't happen to have a toothbrush would you? Or even some gum? I have no idea where that man has been."

Shiro burst out laughing, surprising the young agent, "No, no I don't. Sorry Katie."

Pidge touched her temple. She looked at her gloved fingers. Just trace amounts of blood. She'll live.

"We should get out of here." Shiro said, taking turns glancing at her with a mix of concern and admiration, and then looking around like he was expecting an entire army to come swarming around the corner at any moment. He probably wasn't too far off.

Pidge nodded and puller her hood back over her head. It must have fell while she was fighting. Fighting. She had just _fought_. The realization hit Pidge like a punch to the gut. All this time, she had been complaining and whining about not being in the field, and here, without even noticing, she was just thrown into the real world. When she had been wandering around the city earlier looking for Shiro, she hadn't thought about it at all. It had been an order, something that had to be done. Allura had told her to look for Shiro, and she had left with Hunk without another thought. The fact that she had just been assigned field work had never crossed her mind! And here she was. She had just taken down a guy. She- _she._ Katie Holt, was a fully fledged, in the field, fighting and fully capable agent. Pidge was living her dream. Here she was. As she ran after Shiro, she couldn't make up her mind if she was unbelievably excited or completely terrified.

Together, they flew down the rest of the alleyway and around the corner, entering a crowded market place.

As they passed the stalls, automatically slowing down, they weaved in and out through the crowds of people. As they neared the edge of the market, Shiro shot his arm out and swung a jacket around his shoulders. Buttoning it up and tucking the unfilled sleeve into the pocket, Shiro made it look like any other arm if people didn't look too hard. With a quick tug, he pulled the hood up to mask his hair and put his face in shadow. Out of the two of them, people would recognize him far faster than Pidge if Shiro already had officials after him.

Pidge's heart had not stopped obnoxiously thudding in her ears and she was literally walking on her toes as they neared the end of the marketplace. She was getting ready to run some more when Shiro's hand rested on her shoulder, "First rule of being on the run Katie is to walk, don't run."

Pidge let her feet fall into a more casual walk and nodded, probably for too long. She fell into step with Shiro, which was almost jogging for her anyway.

Pidge couldn't stop looking around. She probably looked as inconspicuous as a stormtrooper, jittery as all heck and- _quiznack_ get it together woman. Think! Next step. What's the next step.

Communication. No. They couldn't communicate. Team Voltron was compromised. Allura had agreed with Hunk and Pidge that they would have to search all the hospitals in one day and meet back at the safe house at 2100 hours, with or without the Black Paladin. So to the safe house it was.

Her eyes flew to her surroundings, as if finally grateful to have something to actually focus in on. She had to get her bearings. Where in the city was she anyway? Good field work Pidge. Solid. A paladin should always know where to go and where they are at any given time. And she was completely lost now.

Passing one of the last stalls, she snatched a phone that was still open and resting on the corner of a table.

Pidge purposefully ignored Shiro's surprised face turned towards her. Ya, she could snatch stuff too. Shiro's not the only person with a knack for thievery.

As soon as they were clear of the market street, Pidge opened the maps app and orientated herself, walking off the sidewalk onto the empty cobbled street, attempting to get a better signal.

"Hey, look at that!" She called to Shiro, who was standing at the curb, "We're close- should only take us about thirty minutes to- woa!"

Pidge jumped three feet back as a large, black van skidded out of nowhere to stop in front of her, a large, silver, lion symbol almost bumping her nose.

Shiro was suddenly beside her, grabbing her arm and standing in front of her protectively as the window opened and a voice demanded, "Get in. Now."


End file.
